Enigma
by Gothika Faerie
Summary: Esmeralda visits Frollo's grave. However, she is not alone. And she is about to discover some things she never knew. And she is also going to ease a restless soul. Frollo/Esmeralda.


Title: Enigma

Summary: Esmeralda visits Frollo's grave. Little did she know there's someone who's visiting it as well. A familiar person. And that's where the mystery all begins. Frollo/Esmeralda if you can follow the story.

Genre: Romance/Mystery

Rated: T for dark content

A/N: Yet another tale for some Frollo/Esmeralda shippers. Read and review please!

It was truly unexplainable. One could blame insomnia. One could blame boredom. One could also blame her insatiable desire for danger. Yet, it was still unexplainable. Why would she even bother to visit his grave? Especially since it was in the dead of night? She loathed that sadistic bastard! Yet, here she was, standing before his grave with a shawl wrapped around her for warmth and security. She sneered at the tombstone jutting from the grave. No one visited, which was plain to see. As the months passed, weeds sprouted rapidly and infested the entire grave, cloying at the engraved words. No one bothered to tend to the parasitic fauna. No one cared.

Esmeralda knelt down gracefully and shoved away a wiry stem in order to read the scratched lettering.

_Here lies Judge Claude Frollo_

_R.I.P_

_He shall be sadly missed_

The gypsy snorted despite knowing it was quite offensive. However, she couldn't help it. Instinct just sprang forth. As if anyone would sadly miss that tyrant. That pyromaniac. That genocidal lunatic. Well, wasn't she now the pot calling the kettle black. Esmeralda ignored that annoying observation. Ha! She never missed him. Seeing him plummet into that molten lead was a triumph indeed.

Ah yes, Esmeralda was bitter. It was human nature to feel bitter once in a while. There was no such thing as eternal sweetness. Women weren't always innocent creatures.

_Neither are we always sinful temptresses. _Her dark giggle was devoid of any mirth. It actually hurt to laugh and the aftermath left a stinging sourness in the back of her throat. _Must be heartburn_, she fabricated another excuse. Gypsies were capable of lying and intelligent trickery. _He would know. _Esmeralda regarded the tombstone again. She still pondered the possible reasons why she was still here. It couldn't be boredom. Definitely not loneliness. Certainly, without a doubt, most likely not because she wanted to visit him. She despised him.

Yet, here she was. It wasn't some angelic village girl or sordid, depressed relative visiting his grave. It was her. Maybe, situation need not always have a reason. If he were here right now, he'd probably claim this was God's will. Esmeralda snorted at that. She meant no disrespect of course but someone so pure as God would never want her to be anywhere close to that unpardonable sinner.

All the lives he destroyed! All the innocents he had killed! All her friends whom he had needlessly arrested! Esmeralda didn't want to feel any sympathy. The moon peeked out from the ebony black sky. Twinkling stars dotted the pitch-black horizon. The luminosity of the moon seemed to light up the tombstones. It was ethereally beautiful if one were appreciates dark elegance. Esmeralda never did.

She still gazed at the chipping tombstone. Why was she so transfixed by it all? What nudged her in the middle of the night, drummed into her head that she had to go and visit his grave and caused her to inspect it so thoroughly? And what, affectionately? The gypsy didn't know. It was a enigma.

She rose, she needed to leave. Yet, her emerald eyes were still fixated upon the tombstone. She was rooted to the spot. Why? Why couldn't she break from whatever the Hell this spell was? And he named her a witch! Ha! She fumed under her breath in utmost frustration. A few swear words were mumbled as well.

"My, my, dear girl. That tongue should not be used in the presence of the dead," A resonant baritone was heard in the background. Esmeralda's hand slipped into her bodice, clutching her dagger. She was always prepared. She turned ready, a panther about to pounce. The figure behind her was cloaked and hooded. The gypsy's hand faltered under his foreboding presence. A very familiar presence. The presence seemed to control her grip, loosening it, and returning the dagger safely into her bodice. If she could peer into the hood, she might have glimpsed a cunning smirk. A smirk she was often haunted by.

"Whoa there, dear gypsy. Let's not have another death. The cemetery's too full of corpses now." He chuckled darkly. His voice was a thunderous, rich and smooth tone, of amazing depth. So familiar. Wishful thinking on her part. What, _wishful thinking?_ As if he was still here. Wait, why did she care?

"Who are you?" She regarded the cloaked man with an air of defiance. Esmeralda could handle brutish men whom tried to cop a feel now and then. She knew from a certain past experience. An experience that often left her tingling and breathless at night when she remembered it. Such sweet nightmares had spawned of that experience. The stranger smirked, unseen yet again.

"Just a visitor like you. I prefer to keep my identity confidential, however." The stranger's gaze fell upon the tombstone. If Esmeralda managed to sneak a peek into the man's hood, she would see his sharp features hardening. His jaw was clenched, his lips drew into a tight line, his eyes narrowed and his teeth bared slightly. The stranger understandably was angry. About what, we wonder.

"He was a wretched man, wasn't he?" The stranger commented, his shining eyes glued to the tombstone. Esmeralda was taken aback by his harsh tone. She nodded. "Yes, he was. He committed so many crimes and misdeeds, far worse than the criminals he captured and tortured. 'Wretched' is a word that doesn't do him justice. 'Monster' does." The stranger winced, his entire frame stiffening. It went unnoticed.

"You must hate him so," He pointed out. Esmeralda didn't know how to comment on that. This man must be one of Frollo's relations. Although, she often heard he had no family. That gypsies had massacred them all. No wonder, a great abhorrence of her people had grown. Still, she didn't want to show pity. "Yes, I do. He has harmed my people, jailed and tortured them. He attempted to seduce and grope me in the cathedral," The stranger shuddered uncomfortably at that statement. It still went unnoticed. "He killed a poor boy's mother. He took in the poor boy in pretense of raising it paternally. No, he looked upon the boy with disgust and isolated him within the dreary bell tower despite how radiant the bells were. He hated everything and everyone. In short, he was a hateful man devoid of any emotion. He is a damned soul." Esmeralda punctuated her eulogy with an icy glare directed to the grave. She never saw the stranger weeping.

"Yes, he is damned. He is burning in the bowels of Hell as we are speaking, dear girl," Esmeralda was amazed this man agreed with her. The commanding deep voice had sank into a pitiful, despondent trill. His frame was hunched forward. He seemed to be cursing the grave. "He was a tortured soul. He fell in love. He was a victim in a crime of passion." The stranger's statement was recited monotonously. If one were to examine the contents of his heart however, there wouldn't be anything to examine. His heart had shattered.

Esmeralda did not know how to respond. She looked him over rather stupidly. Who was this man? Why was he so concerned with Frollo's death? More importantly, why was he prompting her to speak about Frollo with his every statement? The enigma widened. "He was in love?" She inquired, her voice coming out inaudible and low. Frollo boasted of never loving anyone. The judge always viewed love as a weakness. The stranger looked up, the hood shielding his tear-streaked face and pale, weathered skin.

"Yes, he loved. He loved this very enchanting gypsy girl. He loved her so much, he burnt down his beloved city for her. He, strangely, doesn't regret doing so. If it meant proving to the dear girl how much he loved her, desired her and needed her. It was false hope. He asked her if she were to be his. She didn't love him. She never loved him. She spat in his face, spurning him. Public rejection wasn't bad enough. No, she had to spit in his face." The stranger's voice gained fury. He was trembling with rage. Esmeralda's green eyes dilated. To have that dreadful memory of her at the stake being retold was bad enough but to have to learn how much Frollo loved her? A sinking feeling presented itself inside her stomach. What was that feeling? Guilt? _No._

"He still loves that gypsy girl, you know. It's his one regret to never tell her how he really felt. And to see her married to that…that infernal, dim-witted bastard who is not worth one inch of that gorgeous, voluminous, exotic and sweet scented raven hair of hers!!" The stranger practically ranted and screamed in his infuriation. Esmeralda backed away, shocked and quite scared at this man's speech. Who was he really? How did he know her relationship with Phoebus wasn't going so well? Her hands were greatly tempted to pull off the hood and cloak. To see who it was that was so emotional about her encounter with Frollo. However, his harsh words warned her to stay back.

"He still loves her. He will never forget her. Even though now he is burning in the painful fires. Maybe, if he had a chance of redemption, he could tell her. Or he won't. He is actually a coward. Even when he convinces everyone, even himself, that he is never weak. He's actually an arrogant coward," The man's eyes seemed to glow hypnotically when he glared at her. He touched the tombstone with his hand. Esmeralda gasped.

That hand! The moonlight reflected upon it, illuminating it's opalescent quality. Its fingers were spindly and graceful. They were a bit weathered, a sign of age. The nails were finely manicured and its palm was wide and appeared soft. There was not a single callous, scar, blister or hair on that hand. It was the most elegant hand she had ever seen. And the most familiar as well. On the index and ring finger, there was a sapphire and ruby ring respectively. Esmeralda watched the stranger carefully. Was he really whom she thought him to be? Had she solved the enigma? Finally, after a few minutes of musing, the stranger wrapped his cloak tighter around him and adjusted his hood.

"I am leaving now. You best leave as well. It is late and young women should not be out when it is late. Goodnight and farewell, my dear…" The stranger bit his lip, turned his back stiffly and walked off into the horizon.

_You should've told me…You said you still love me._ Esmeralda did not know whether to break down crying helplessly or convince herself that this was all some crazed, alcohol-induced nightmare. She did neither. Instead, she knelt down and touched the tombstone.

"Your love for me is damned, Frollo. I cannot say I love you back. However, the next best thing I can say is I forgive you for what you have done." She stood up, brushed her dress off and flitted off. Her words didn't go unnoticed. They calmed a restless soul, a soul whom could never find peace. A soul that still lingered despite the torment he endured in Hell. Torment that was easier to withstand than to have her angry at him forever.

Maybe this was the explanation why Esmeralda came to his grave. To ease his restless, unhappy and regretful soul. To help him find his salvation. To help her see him in a different light. To have her understand his true intentions in laying siege to the city. Everything fell into place when she went to his grave. God really does work in mysterious ways.

And what of the mysterious, hooded stranger?

I believe you already know, dear readers. He had stood behind a tree and had listened to the gypsy's words. She may not love him but she was no longer holding her grudge. Removing his hood, he gazed at her retreating form with teary eyes and a wistful smile. The moonlight somewhat of a halo on his silver hair.

"Farewell forever, La Esmeralda. Never forget that I will always love you." Then, the stranger seemed to dissipate, fading away into the darkness.

Two souls finally rested and content.

The enigma is solved.

A/N: Phew, that ended up longer than I expected. Read and review, please.


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